


Impressions

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider 555 | Masked Rider Faiz, Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Decade | Masked Rider Decade, Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Kiva, Kamen Rider Kuuga, Kamen Rider Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godai likes Tsukasa; Ichijou doesn't. DaiShocker's attacks were well-planned, but none of the Riders are the type to give up in the face of impossible odds.  A prequel story to Decade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to Decade involving the original-verse Riders, and as such there are spoilers for Tsukasa's past, for the end of Kuuga, for Takumi's identity and the end of Faiz, and for Wataru's identity in Kiva.

He likes the boy.

Ichijou doesn’t. He knows that the detective doesn’t from the moment he introduces the two. There’s more than Ichijou’s usual shyness in his reticence around the boy, his hesitancy to talk about anything that could be remotely construed as important.

Ichijou’s quiet about his dislike. He doesn’t say anything bad about the boy, at least not to anyone who would repeat it to Godai. He’s just quiet and distant when Tsukasa’s around, always staying at an alert wariness that Godai hasn’t seen since their time fighting Grongi.

He finally just asks Ichijou what’s wrong, because he can’t stand watching how the detective’s eyes jump and his hand jerks toward his gun whenever Tsukasa moves too quickly. He waits until they’re alone and Ichijou’s relaxed, because it means the man’s more likely to give him a complete answer.

“What is it about him that bothers you?”

Ichijou starts, just slightly, the contented smile that had been on his face throughout dinner falling away. “I don’t—”

“You do. He…” Scares isn’t a word Godai would ever throw at Ichijou. The detective has faced down too many monsters without blinking. “Worries you. I see the way you watch him. What am I missing?”

Ichijou hesitates a moment before shrugging. “Nothing. He hasn’t done anything.”

“But he makes you nervous.”

“He’s… arrogant.” Toying with one of the remaining noodles on his plate, Ichijou frowns at it as though it holds the answer he’s looking for.

“He’s self-confident.”

“Yes.” Ichijou smiles, eyes rising to meet Godai’s. “But also arrogant. He thinks… he believes that he’s the most important person in the world. Worlds, I suppose I should say when he’s concerned.”

Leaning back in his chair, Godai considers his friend’s words. “I think that’s being a bit harsh on him. I’ve never heard him say anything that would make me think he considers other people to be less than him.”

“Maybe.” Shrugging, Ichijou fixes his eyes on his plate again. “I’m not the one who wanted my opinion.”

“I value your opinion. And your instinct. You see the worst in people for a living.”

“And the best.” Ichijou offers him another quick, shy smile. “And I’m not accusing him of being a monster. I just… don’t trust him.”

“Because he’s arrogant.”

“Because he’s completely lacking in empathy.” Ichijou frowns as he says the words, more force than he usually uses behind them. “Because of the way he ingratiated himself with you, and the way he looks at the rest of us. Because he seems to recognize far too much about who and what you are and if I thought he had the skill I’d say he’s pulling your strings to get something he wants.”

“Well.” Staring at the detective, Godai takes a moment to process the string of… accusations? Fears? He’s never known Ichijou to be paranoid before, but…

“Don’t look at me like that. I know he hasn’t done anything.” The detective scowls down at his empty plate. “It’s just too easy, too convenient, the way he shows up out of nowhere and chooses you to be his introduction to this world.”

“He saw me transform, Ichijou.”

“Which you’ve done how many times since the war ended? A dozen? Two dozen?”

There’s an old argument buried in there, that they both just barely shy away from. Ichijou cares about him keeping his identity a secret; Godai doesn’t think it matters that much. Going through the same old arguments again won’t help with this new one, though.

Sighing, Godai shakes his head. “You’re faulting him for having lucky timing. I don’t know exactly what made him decide to approach me, but I think I’m probably one of the better people he could have chosen as a first contact.”

“Maybe. Probably. But there’s also his secrecy about his world, the way he’s always digging for information on our world—”

“He’s trying to see if it’s safe for his people. It’s not that hard to understand.”

“These people that he doesn’t ever want to talk about? And what kind of people choose a nineteen—twenty at most—year old boy as their first contact ambassador?”

Godai frowns. “Maybe he’s older than he looks. Or a savant.”

“No. That boy may be a lot of things, but he’s not an ambassadorial savant. I don’t know, Godai. All the reasons I can think for sending someone like him either reflect poorly on him or on the rest of his world. Like he’s dangerous enough on his own to be fine, or they don’t care if he dies, or some twisted combination of the two.”

“He’s from a completely different world, Ichijou. A completely different culture. We can’t expect to understand it based on Japanese or even first-world traditions here. Maybe it’s normal for them to send someone younger. Maybe it’s traditional, keeping the older politicians for the more formal introductions later.”

“Maybe.” Pushing his plate away, Ichijou shakes his head. “I’m sure you could come up with perfectly reasonable explanations for any of the oddities he’s shown.”

“I bet I could.” Godai grins at the other man, trying to lighten the suddenly all-too-somber mood. “Come on, what else do you find disconcerting about our guest?”

“The way he stares at me like I’m something fascinating but subhuman, especially when you tell him that you trust me and he should too. The way he’s constantly asking you about the arcle and the amadam and the Grongi.” Ichijou allows a small smile to flit across his face. “I’m also not terribly fond of his clothes. All the pink and black leather just screams villain to me.”

“He’s interested in the relationships that exist on this world. He’s interested in where the police force fits into it—maybe they have more of a problem with police corruption in their world? Or maybe it’s so nice that they don’t have police. That would be a good thing, right, and it would explain why you at least think he gives you odd looks? And he doesn’t ask me nearly as many prying and personal questions about Kuuga-related anything as Tsubaki does, so I don’t see how that makes him dangerous and not just interested. Kuuga’s a pretty fascinating thing, so we can’t blame him there. What was the last bit? Oh, right, his clothes.” Returning Ichijou’s smile, he shakes his head. “We’re both too intelligent for you to want me to dignify that with a response. Different world. Maybe it’s the epitome of formal dress over there.”

“Maybe.” Sighing, Ichijou stands and starts clearing the table. “I hope so. I want to think so. It would be fascinating, having other worlds to visit, visitors from other worlds, and I want him to be what he’s claiming to be. A visitor who comes in peace to bring change for the better. But there’s something about it that rings… false.”

“All right.” Grabbing his own plate and glass, Godai follows Ichijou into the kitchen. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m not trying to tell you not to like him. It’s what you do, Godai. You see the best in people, and you make it true. I don’t want that to change.” Ichijou’s hand grabs his arm and holds tight, just for a moment. “Just… be careful. Keep yourself safe. Keep our world safe.”

“Don’t worry, Ichijou. I will.”

***

It hurts.

It’s not the first time the amadam’s been damaged. Daguva hurt him badly both times they fought. Somehow that pain had faded in memory, though, the jagged-sharp agony becoming a blur of half-remembered terror and sorrow and pain.

How had he managed to fight through this? How had he managed to stand before, either time?

It hurts. Every movement, every breath, every beat of his heart sends agony trailing down all his nerves, starting at the damaged amadam and sweeping outward.

But he needs to get up. He needs to see, to understand what’s happening, because he made a promise to a friend.

He promised, now and then, and that is what gives him the strength to stand.

“Oh?” The boy turns toward him as he stands, and there is surprise clear on his face. Surprise, but no regret; interest, but no sorrow. “You should just stay down, Kuuga. I like you well enough that I’ll let you live if you do. I’m sure DaiShocker’s scientists can find something creative to do with you.”

“Tsukasa.” He’s losing blood too fast, pouring between his fingers from the too-accurately placed shots. How had Tsukasa known exactly where the amadam was? “Why?”

“Because we have to. Trust me, Godai, it’s in this world’s best interest. Plus, it’s only right. I’m special. I was born to be ruler of all the worlds.”

There are people watching them, from around corners, from behind glass. They don’t understand what’s happening. Sirens are just audible in the distance, so someone called an ambulance when the crazy man in the pink and black leather decided to shoot his companion a half-dozen times for no reason.

Where did Tsukasa even keep the gun?

What kind of gun is it, this strange thing that speaks while it kills and can hurt him this badly?

What does Tsukasa mean, that it’s in the world’s best interest?

What is DaiShocker?

What is he doing again?

Losing blood and time and Tsukasa’s attention, as the boy—not that young in age, not really, but he’s always seemed too young in maturity, and it shines through even now—turns away.

“Tsukasa, please.” He reaches for the boy, his right hand coming down on Tsukasa’s shoulder. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t bleed on me.” Tsukasa’s hand shoves him back, a grimace of distaste forming on the boy’s face as he brushes at his shoulder. “Stay out of the way or I’ll shoot you again.”

“Out of the way of what?” The words come out as an angry snarl, and the pain ebbs slightly, the amadam’s power increasing as it feeds on his anger, his fear, his frustration.

Things he can’t allow it to have, and his vision is blurring, twisting, hazing so much that he almost doesn’t understand what’s happening.

The rip in reality is monstrous. He’s only ever seen Tsukasa form small portals, large enough for Tsukasa to walk between. This thing is large enough for an army.

Which is exactly what comes through. An army of monsters, too many shapes and sizes to count, and Kuuga tells him that some of them are Grongi though that isn’t possible.

“Oh, Godai Yuusuke.” Tsukasa laughs, reaches out as though to touch him on the shoulder and then stops, shaking his head. “Don’t look so perplexed. Just go to sleep. I’ll explain things when you wake up.”

He can’t reason with Tsukasa. It’s impossible to reason with someone who stands there so calmly, so unperturbed, after unleashing something like this.

Calling Kuuga out hurts.

It hurts so much, more than he can ever remember hurting, and he finds himself laughing so he won’t cry. “Twelve on a scale of ten, Tsubaki. But we’ll be all right. Now… henshin.”

He has to be fine, because he’s the only one who can stop this nightmare.

Tsukasa turns back to him as the transformation washes over him, and at least Kuuga’s armor means he isn’t bleeding as much anymore. The young man’s mouth turns down into an annoyed frown as he pulls out a belt and a card.

He tries to get to Tsukasa before the boy can complete his transformation, but Tsukasa’s too fast, side-stepping with an easy grace as pink and black armor envelopes him.

“Godai, you can’t defeat me. Not anymore. Not like that.”

Godai doesn’t say anything, crouching, watching, waiting for his moment to strike. He won’t get many chances at this.

“I don’t want to kill you, Godai. I want to play with you.”

“I’m not a plaything. This world isn’t a plaything.” How did he miss this? How did he confuse a lack of malice, a lack of hatred for benevolence?

He didn’t. He just knew that Tsukasa wasn’t evil, and assumed that meant Tsukasa wouldn’t bring evil with him.

That was wrong.

There are people screaming. There are Grongi screaming, cheering, as well as other monsters that he doesn’t have names for.

He’ll deal with those once he’s dealt with Tsukasa.

“Fine then.” Tsukasa’s tone is petulant, more annoyance than anger. “We’ll figure out what we can from the arcle. You wouldn’t be any fun after this, anyway.”

The belt speaks as Tsukasa inserts another card into the buckle. Cards appear, transparent, almost beautiful in the smoke and dirt that’s coming from the battles underway. Policemen and monsters clashing, just like five years ago, and Godai hopes that at least some of these monsters are susceptible to normal bullets.

Hopes that Ichijou will be careful, when he inevitably gets here.

Hopes that this is going to work, because it has to. Tsukasa’s the one who created the gate; Tsukasa’s the one who’s sustaining it. Without Tsukasa, there will almost certainly be no gate.

That means that Tsukasa needs to die.

It hurts.

On so many levels, it hurts.

He’s crying again, as he gathers all the energy that he can. All the sorrow, all the determination, all the hopes that he has; not the rage, not the betrayal, not the fear.

Never those.

Never for Kuuga, because he won’t become a worse monster than those that he has to fight.

He meets Tsukasa’s kick with one of his own, the fire that is Kuuga pouring from the amadam down his leg and into the armor around the boy’s head.

The explosion is impressive. He’s vaguely aware of that, as he bounces off the street once, twice, three times, before fetching up hard against a wall. It almost doesn’t hurt—doesn’t really register at all, through the cacophony that Kuuga has bathed his nerves in.

White fire, crawling along his whole body, but he can’t pass out yet. There are too many things he has to do, too many monsters that he’s responsible for.

Though there won’t be any more. That much was successful, at least. Tsukasa lies on the ground, an ocean of rubble and dust between them, his belt and gun lying at his side. There isn’t a hole between worlds gaping open in the middle of the street anymore, discharging more nightmares that aren’t supposed to be.

The world was supposed to be safe.

That’s why they stood against Daguva like that. That’s why they sacrificed so much.

The world was supposed to be safe.

And he’s going to make it that way again.

“Yuusuke!” Someone grabs his shoulder, tries to spin him around, which is a mistake.

His balance isn’t good enough for that, and he ends up clinging to the other man’s shoulders, trying to figure out which foot he needs to move to be standing properly. He stares at his hand, wondering why it looks strange. So pink, beneath the red; so vulnerable…

Right. His armor. He needs to push Kuuga to get them back in armor again.

“Godai Yuusuke!”

His head comes up automatically, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Ichijou. That’s the only person who talks to him like that, and the only one he would ever want to follow him into a hell like this.

Though that isn’t exactly right. He frowns. He doesn’t want Ichijou here. But if someone’s going to choose damnation with him, then—

“Come on, Godai. Come with me.” Ichijou has shifted him, supporting his weight, and is urging him back toward the sounds of sirens. Away from the sounds of battle, and that isn’t right.

“I can fight.”

“No.” Ichijou’s hand tightens on his shoulder, a slightly hotter burn in the fire that is all his peripheral nerves will acknowledge now. “You can’t. You’re bleeding… everywhere. You can’t think straight. Go rest.”

“I have to.” Stringing the three words together takes too much energy, leaving him shaking, but he still tries to look back toward the battle.

“You don’t. Not this time.”

“Tsukasa.” He doesn’t manage to turn; he just manages to trip them, and Ichijou allows him to settle down gently against a wall. Which would be fine, if not for the fact that getting up again sounds like an impossible task. “It was Tsukasa. I have to… my fa—”

“No.” Ichijou takes both his hands, holds them tight for a moment. There is a look on his face, in his eyes, that Godai can’t place but doesn’t like. “You can’t. Not this time. Stay here, Godai, and don’t die. At least not permanently. I’ll be back soon.”

He wants to argue.

He wants to follow Ichijou as the man runs back into the battle.

But he can’t even keep his eyes open.

They’ve given all they have to give, he and Kuuga.

Just like after Daguva, all they can do is rest.

XXX

It’s loud.

It’s loud and it hurts and Tsukasa hates it.

Hates it so much, and he wants to make it go away, make it all go away, and in a quiet wash of gray and wind it does just that.

Lifting his head uncertainly, he looks around at the quiet countryside. Trees, in the distance, but he’s on the side of a road somewhere. A dirt road, and he reaches out to touch it uncertainly.

Moving hurts, and he whimpers low in his throat. That makes his head hurt even more, and he reaches up hesitantly to touch it.

His hand comes away slick with red, dripping and oozing from his fingertips, and he whimpers again. Why is he hurt?

He’s not supposed to be hurt.

Nothing’s supposed to be able to hurt him.

But something obviously has, so he’ll deal with it.

Standing doesn’t work very well. The ground wavers, his vision seeming to go from the blue azure beauty of the sky to the dusty brown dirt of the road and back with no warning. He falls three times before he’s gone a dozen meters, and decides that maybe walking isn’t such a good idea.

Which leaves crawling, but the idea of doing that is utterly repugnant. Kadoya Tsukasa doesn’t crawl. Kadoya Tsukasa is better than that. Kadoya Tsukasa is…

Is…

Hurt.

Hurt, and scared, and alone, and he realizes with a start that he doesn’t know anything more than that.

His name, that comes to him easily, almost like a title, but he can’t remember anything else.

No family.

No friends.

Not even whatever it was that injured him so badly.

No matter.

Even if he doesn’t have a past, he has himself.

It will be enough to get him through whatever nightmare the world’s dropped him down into.

***

They rest.

Godai’s not sure how long. Hours, days, hopefully not longer than that—almost certainly not longer than that. Even Daguva had only put him in the hospital for a week the second time.

He hears things, occasionally—snips of conversation that don’t make sense, that filter through the black emptiness that is Kuuga’s refusal to push them into consciousness, and find his human half.

“If anything happens to him, nowhere on any world will be safe for you.”

It’s Ichijou’s voice, but it doesn’t match Ichijou’s personality or Ichijou’s tone. Ichijou doesn’t threaten people. Ichijou doesn’t have that raw, desperate note to his words. He wishes he could tell the detective that he’s going to be fine, but it’s far too early to even hope for that.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Todoroki. I don’t know if you can hear this, but I might not get another chance, and I just wanted to tell you that what you did was amazing.”

He doesn’t know the voice, and he doesn’t think Ichijou would tell anyone who he is, so he isn’t sure what to make of the young man. Maybe he’ll figure it out when he wakes up.

“You should really wake up soon, y’know? I don’t know if you’re bein’ lazy or what, but your partner needs you before he drives us all up the friggin’ wall.”

“Momotaros, shut up! I’m sorry, Godai-san. Ignore anything that doesn’t sound like… well… I’ll explain when you’re awake, if you remember.”

It’s one voice, but the man talks to himself with five different inflections. It’s fascinating, a puzzle to run over and over in his mind, though he finally admits that he’ll probably just have to wait until he wakes up to find out what it means.

“I’m not going to waste my time watching over your comatose friend. If you’re that worried about him, you should be watching over him yourself.” This voice is young, male, derision and scorn dripping from every word.

“You will take your turn at guard duty.” Ichijou’s words are soft but forceful, the ring of authority and command in every syllable. “And if anything happens to him when you’re on duty, I will hunt you down.”

“I’m not intimidated by you, detective. I just don’t see wasting valuable man-power here.”

“No, you’re just annoyed because Tsukasa thought Godai was more important than you. More dangerous than you. Believe me, I have had my fill of arrogant young men for the rest of my life. Even if you are some sun god, Godai’s worth more than you could ever be. And don’t underestimate my threats.”

He tries to wake during that conversation, because Ichijou isn’t sounding or acting like he should. There’s too much anger simmering beneath the surface, too much fear and frustration hiding beneath the anger. It’s not right. It’s not how he wants Ichijou to act, especially on his behalf.

But he’s still too weak to move, too weak to really wake, and the effort just sends him down into dark oblivion for a little bit longer.

“—everything’s all right. I’m not sure if anyone told you that yet, and I—that’s Hikawa, in case you actually can hear like your doctor thinks you can—thought you should know. Your city’s safe. Your world’s safe.”

There’s a for now buried in that man’s words, but it’s a comforting, soothing voice. He decides that he likes the man, and would like to meet him.

Soon, preferably.

Kuuga doesn’t speak to him in words. It never has. Only pictures, scents, tastes, sounds, feels, and it throws these at him again in a manner that almost mimics human frustration.

Their blood, red on his hands, on the street, on Tsukasa’s magenta-clad shoulder.

The scent of smoke, of iron, of death and destruction.

The screams of the injured and the scared, though it takes that away almost as soon as it gives it to him, because it only makes his urge to be useful that much stronger.

The agony of being broken, the fire enveloping all his nerves, and he throws understanding at it until the sensations finally fade.

He’ll be as patient as he can be, as long as Kuuga is as fast as it can be.

It’s a compromise they can both agree to.

***

They find Tsukasa on the fourth day.

On day two Ichijou had managed to bend the veils between worlds to his will, in a bitter moment of utter desperation as his people were slaughtered by a Grongi that he helped Godai kill five year ago as well as a half-dozen new Unidentified Lifeforms. It had been an impossible feat that left him light-headed and dizzy, barely able to line up his shots.

He didn’t need to for long, though. The rip between worlds deposited them in front of a restaurant, and before thirty seconds had passed two armored forms were charging out and into the fray, pulling monsters off his people and dispatching them with the quick, clean moves of practiced soldiers.

Well, one of them like a practiced soldier. The other was more like a rampaging lion, screaming incoherently throughout the whole fight, but it was obvious he knew what he was doing.

The remainder of his people had huddled behind Ichijou, even more confused by what had happened than he was, so he had been the first to welcome Tsugami Shouichi and Ashihara Ryou to the ranks of the world-hopping Riders.

He likes those two better than the one he currently has at his side.

It’s not Tendou’s fault. He tells himself that time and time again—Tendou isn’t Tsukasa. Tendou hasn’t done anything to earn his wrath. Tendou is a hero on his world, at least according to Kagami, and there’s a sweet, dumb honesty to Kagami that makes Ichijou want to trust him. That reminds Ichijou a little bit of Godai, if Godai were a decade younger.

But Tendou Souji is also an arrogant brat, certain of his own decisions, and that is something that Ichijou is very tired of dealing with.

“That’s him.” Tendou points toward the man, sitting uncertainly at a table in an outdoor café.

An older couple and a ten year old girl sit with him, and there are bandages wrapped around the young man’s head and neck, but there’s no denying that Tendou’s right. It’s Tsukasa.

“You could take him down now, you know.” Tendou speaks the words softly, so that just Ichijou can hear, as they both watch DaiShocker’s leader being spoon-fed fruit by the child. “I’ve seen your marksmanship.”

“I am not going to shoot him in cold blood. Especially not in front of a child.” He grits his teeth to keep from saying anything else—to keep the assertion that if he did he would almost certainly shoot Tendou as well from slipping out. It’s not Tendou’s fault that he reminds Ichijou of Tsukasa.

“The plan to capture him is stupid.” Tendou’s tone is completely self-confident, as is his stance. It is not Tendou’s fault that these things remind Ichijou of Tsukasa. If he keeps telling himself this, they may eventually stop annoying him. “How are we going to keep him? He slips between worlds easier than a Worm slips between identities.”

“We’ve been over this. Tsukasa has information. He’s the best opportunity to get that information. Beside which, I’m a police officer. I don’t murder people in cold blood.” Though if he were ever going to break that rule, if he ever shot anyone…

No. Not even Tsukasa will make him sacrifice that much of himself.

Not yet, at least. Not so long as Tsubaki keeps insisting that Godai’s going to be fine.

“He’s not going to tell us anything. And if we do capture him, we’re not going to be able to try him. There are no laws against inter-dimensional aggression. Besides, whose world gets him?”

It’s better to just grit his teeth and say nothing than to argue with Tendou. Arguing with Tendou just gets him even more annoyed than having to listen to Tendou. And Tendou doesn’t want to hear the arguments—doesn’t want to hear that they can find a way to try him for war crimes, that they can find a way to keep him from escaping though it’s going to be difficult, that they can find a way to be better than Tsukasa and his army of monsters and villains.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” Tendou’s studying the scene, expression almost puzzled.

“Eating lunch with a family.” Looking almost innocent, in black jeans and a simple T-shirt. Do the people he’s eating with know what he’s done?

“His family? If so, they’ll be guilty as well.”

“Guilty by association?”

“Guilty because you can’t not know that someone you’re friends or family with has plans to conquer not just the world, but all worlds.”

“Maybe.” Maybe, but it doesn’t feel right. These people don’t look like inter-planetary terrorists. They look… normal. They look nice, and there’s genuine love in the way they stare at the girl, and more bemusement than understanding in the way they look at Tsukasa. “I don’t think you’re—”

“This is enough. I’m not risking him getting away, and I’m not risking him getting the chance to call in reinforcements.” Tendou raises one hand, pointing at the sun. “You don’t get to send all the worlds to Hell and then just walk away.”

He punches the boy just as the Zecter dives down toward Tendou’s hand. The angry creature zips around them both as Tendou raises one hand slowly to his face, feeling at his bleeding nose and split lip.

Ichijou’s ready for the boy to retaliate. He’s not ready for the boy to be so damn good at fighting. He’s skilled, all of his moves carefully trained; he also knows when to fight dirty, proof that he’s been in real combat situations.

They’re both bleeding by the time Ichijou breaks away, grabbing at and slamming the angry little Zecter to the ground as he does. The creature retaliates by slicing his hand open, and Ichijou jumps back, letting it crawl over to its master.

Turning away from Tendou for a brief moment, he scans the confused crowds that have gathered around them for Tsukasa. He gets a glimpse of the young man, backing away from them, one hand pressing against his bandaged head, and then the veils between worlds rip him away, leaving only empty space.

Interesting.

Tsukasa’s running from them.

Tsukasa’s afraid of them?

Tendou stares at Ichijou as he picks up the Zecter, anger and confusion mixing on his face. “Find Tsukasa if you can, Kabuto. Report back to me if you do.”

“He won’t find him. He’s already left this world.” Putting his hand up to his own split lip, Ichijou winces. “Sorry you won’t have a chance to murder him.”

“I don’t understand you.” Tendou dusts himself off, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. “You hate him more than any of us. You’ve been the one most determined to find him.”

“I want to bring him to justice. I want to find out what he knows. I want…”

To understand why. To understand how Tsukasa could have spent so much time with Godai and still turned around and shot the man. To understand why Godai trusted him, why Godai thought there was something worth caring about and liking in the boy.

Godai is kind, but he isn’t kind carelessly. He could kill if he had to. He could recognize evil and do what needed to be done to stop it.

And he liked Tsukasa.

Why did Godai like Tsukasa?

“You’re going to regret not letting me kill him.” Tendou turns away as he says it, slipping between worlds between one breath and the next.

Sighing, Ichijou turns away from the people pointing at the street, the growing murmur of fear and surprise as those at the front report Tendou’s disappearance. They were supposed to go between worlds where people couldn’t see them, if possible.

Not that many of them actually followed the rules.

Godai was probably going to be terrible at it when he finally woke up and joined the fight.

Cutting his own path through the veils between worlds in an alleyway, Ichijou hopes that Tendou’s wrong.

***

There’s fighting.

Tsukasa doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand why his heart starts beating faster as he watches the two men. He doesn’t understand why the strange thing flying around them—a bug? If so, it’s monstruous—makes his hands sweat.

He doesn’t understand why all of it makes his head ache, a deep pain that drowns out all his thoughts.

Danger.

He’s in danger.

And then he’s somewhere else.

He doesn’t understand what happened. The pain makes it hard to remember, even.

Was he eating lunch? Was he with people? People who had been kind to him?

Was there something wrong?

He doesn’t know, and he shakes his head, trying to get the ringing in his ears to stop. That just makes his vision blur, though, and he sits down hard on the ground. On the edge of the fountain, and he turns to look at it, watching the water dance and sparkle in the air.

It’s beautiful.

He likes the fact that it’s beautiful. There was someone he would try to remember things like this for, once.

He thinks.

Maybe.

But all that doesn’t really matter. He’s Kadoya Tsukasa, and he’s hungry and his head hurts, and he needs to do something about these things.

Everything else can wait until later.

***

Waking up is more disorienting than usual. Every other time Godai’s woken up in a hospital bed, his clothes in the closet and either no one or Tsubaki or, rarely, Ichijou at his bedside. This time he’s in a truck, monitors all around, and there’s a woman barking orders into a microphone just a few feet away.

“Hikawa, behind you, fifteen feet. No, behind the next pillar. There you go. I am aware that you are awake. I will deal with you once Hikawa is done with this. Do not interrupt me before then. Hikawa, if you ask me anything about him I will be distraught.”

It takes Godai a moment to work out that she’s talking to both him and the man being shown on one of the screens—and sending images to another screen, if he’s reading things correctly. A man in blue armor that looks an awful lot like Kuuga, and he frowns, left hand resting over where the amadam lies beneath his skin. Is there someone else like him?

No, not like him. That’s a battery pack on the man’s back, and the weapons he uses are mechanical, not the miracles that Kuuga gives to him. Something based off Kuuga, then?

The name Hikawa sounds familiar, too. It was one of the people who talked to him before, when he was half-awake. One that he liked. Nodding to himself, he sets about disentangling the various medical instruments that are connected to him, carefully shutting things down so no alarms go off and distract the woman or the man she’s helping to fight.

“Another Orphenoch to your left—can’t tell if it’s friendly or not. Tentacles deployed, I would say not friendly. One behind you. Careful. Try using Cerberus, we’ve already had enough collateral damage complaints. Two more to your right—no, wait, Ryou and Takumi seem to have that. Try to bring them in with you when you’re done; we have some things to discuss about their ability to play well with others. Nice job, Hikawa. I’m not reading any more enemy signs.”

The woman turns to him, brown eyes bright, arms crossed across her chest. “Now. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

Godai’s sure he does, too, but it’s a bit hard to remember them when he’s sitting in a hospital gown on a cot in a strange room with the woman staring at him with such incredible intensity. First things first, then. “The monsters—the Grongi and the others that Tsukasa let through—what happened with them?”

“They’ve been mostly pushed back from all nine worlds. We’ve got teams running sweeps now, clearing out those that are left. The Orphenoch are the hardest to eliminate, because they self-replicate on the worlds that they invade, but we’re getting there. There might also be makamou problems in all nine worlds in the future if we’ve lost some of those in the wilderness, but at least the main offensive push has been defeated.”

“Ah…” Right. Nine worlds. Other Riders. Other types of monsters. There are going to be a lot of questions to ask about that later. “Where am I?”

“This is the G3X command truck—Hikawa’s the G3X pilot. Yes, it’s based off of Yongo from our world. No, we don’t have him with us. I’ve never been able to determine his identity, and even knowing you and Ichijou’s names, I haven’t been able to find him. I’m starting to believe something must have happened to our version, since he didn’t appear again during the Agito problem and he didn’t appear during Tsukasa’s invasion.” The woman says each sentence swiftly but clearly, pausing to watch him after each new burst of information. This time her eyes drop from his face to his stomach, and her face takes on a hungry, questioning look that he’s all too familiar with from Tsubaki. “In the future, if you’d be willing, I would very much like to work with Tsubaki-san and Enokida-san and you to determine more of how Yongo works.”

“Right. That can probably be arranged.” Sitting up against the wall of the truck, he tries to surreptitiously pull the sheet up higher. “I mean, I don’t have any problem looking into how Kuuga works. Ichijou might not like the idea, though. Where is he?”

“He’s with Wataru.” The woman’s eyes jump back up to meet his. “They’re still searching for Tsukasa. They had found his trail on Hibiki’s world, and they managed to follow him to Kido’s world, but then they lost him again.”

“So Tsukasa’s alive.” He’s relieved to hear it, though he probably shouldn’t be. If Tsukasa’s alive, it means he’ll need to hunt him down again.

Maybe they can capture him, though. Maybe he can travel with Tsukasa for a while, figure out why the boy’s done what he’s done, and keep him from wanting to do it again.

The door to the truck opens, and Hikawa strides in, helmet under his hand. His hair is plastered to his head with sweat, but he smiles brightly at Godai. “Good morning, sir. It’s nice to have you with us again—to get a chance to meet the legendary Yongo.”

Godai blinks at the man, unsure how to react. He’s not used to people being that respectful to him. Even the task force, who loved Yongo, had tended to speak to him as an equal rather than a superior.

“He’s not our Yongo, Hikawa. Don’t make him nervous.” The woman takes the helmet from Hikawa, gesturing for him to go stand against the wall, where various pieces of electronics begin helping him to take the armor off.

Two other men stand in the doorway of the truck, silhouetted in the sun. One wears a leather jacket, hands in pockets, blond hair standing out from his head like a lion’s mane; the other has his hands crossed over his chest, an angry scowl on his face.

“Is that why you wanted us to come in? To tell us guard duty was over?” The one with the lion-mane directs the question toward Hikawa and the woman, and though his expression stays surly his tone is actually fairly friendly.

“Part of it.” The woman stands, and the truck suddenly feels far too crowded. “Godai Yuusuke, Kamen Rider Kuuga from World A, this is Ashihara Ryou, Kamen Rider Gills from world B. Hikawa Makoto is Kamen Rider G3X, also from world B. I’m Ozawa Sumiko, the creator of G3X, and also from World B. Ryou’s new best friend there is Inui Takumi, from world D. He’s both an Orphenoch and Kamen Rider Faiz.”

“Orphenoch?” Godai studies the young man. “Those are the things G3X was fighting, right? The ones that you said were good at invading worlds?”

“That’s not what they’re supposed to be.” Takumi growls the words, throwing a glare at Ozawa as he does. “They’re—we’re—the resurrected dead, I suppose you could say. A lot of us just want to try to continue living our lives in peace. But some… the ones that DaiShocker chose are the ones who are angry or crazy or both. It’s possible for an Orphenoch to kill humans, and sometimes those humans will resurrect as other Orphenoch. There was an organization on my world that tried to do the same.”

There’s a waiting silence, and the young man’s eyes glare out at Godai until he asks the question that Takumi obviously wants asked. “What happened to that organization?”

“I blew it up.” The man smiles, a brief flicker of white teeth. “Me and my friends. I’ll do the same to DaiShocker.”

Godai recognizes the anger in Takumi’s eyes, in his words, an anger that stems from pain. He doesn’t know exactly what the young man sacrificed or what he went through in his world, but Takumi expected it to be the end. He expected his world—his people—to be safe.

And now they’re not, and that anger and hurt betrayal—betrayed by Tsukasa, by his people, by the universe—bleeds over into everything he does.

Ryou puts a hand on Takumi’s shoulder, just a brief clap, but it drains some of the aching, angry energy from the room. “If that’s all you wanted, Ozawa, Takumi and I are going to head for world E. We heard there were some GOD soldiers and makamou sighted there a few hours ago.”

Ozawa shakes her head. “Kenzaki’s already—”

“No, he’s not. We ran into him just before getting back here. His… Hajime showed up to the fight. Kenzaki’s on world F, with Ibuki and Akira. They’re eliminating some Black Satan and Imajin, and then Kenzaki needs a break. His little run-in with Hajime has made his control a bit iffy.”

Takumi scowls harder at the last bit, throwing Ryou a disgruntled, almost hurt look. His words are mumbled, but Godai can still pick them out. “He’ll be fine. His control’s better than he thinks.”

Taking a deep breath, Ozawa runs her hands through her hair. “Right. This is what I wanted to talk to the two of you about. You’re not the only offenders, but you’re certainly the worst. You need to get in touch with us when things happen like this. We need to know where everyone is. We have to keep this organization organized.”

Inui’s glare takes on a fiercer edge, his teeth showing briefly, and Godai has the strangest impression of an angry wolf filling that half of the truck.

“Takumi, stop that.” Sitting back down in her seat, Ozawa shakes her head. “I know everyone’s tired. I know you’ve had bad experiences with large organizations before. But we need each other, if we’re going to survive this. We need to work together. If you want to jump from world to world fighting the whole time, that’s fine. But use the contacts we have set up for you. Make sure your movements get reported back here. All right?”

“All right, Ozawa. We’ll do that.” Ryou answers calmly, and after a few seconds Takumi gives a jerky nod of agreement as well. Ryou’s hand briefly touches Takumi’s shoulder again, steering him toward the door. “Come on, Inui. We’ve got some monsters to kill on world E. Oh, and Hikawa. Nice work. Don’t forget to let yourself rest, too, okay?”

“Thanks, Ashihara. Same to you two.”

Inclining his head, Ashihara Ryou leads Inui Takumi out of the truck, closing the door behind them.

“There’s an unlikely partnership.” Shaking his head, Hikawa sprawls in a chair in his black jumpsuit. Opening a bottle of water, he pours half over his head before drinking the rest quickly. “Good for them both, though.”

“Hopefully.” Turning her chair back to him, Ozawa offers Godai a small smile. “Now that you’re probably thoroughly confused, how about some more questions answered.”

“Right.” Where does he even start? “I guess you should give me a brief explanation of the worlds and the fight, and then tell me where you need me.”

Ozawa smiles, clearly pleased by his answer. “So far we have nine worlds working together. The worlds are all parallel to each other—the portals between worlds are the only way to travel between them, otherwise we wouldn’t have ever interacted. You might have met this universe’s version of me, but you wouldn’t have met this version of me, from my universe.

“So, nine parallel worlds working together. There are another ten that we’re working on organizing with, but they were hit harder by the initial invasion and have fewer structural organizations to fall back on then we do. Our ten worlds are lucky, I suppose. We have Ichijou on the police force here; Hikawa and I are on the police force in our world. Ryuki, that’s world C, has a small news organization that he works with, not the best, but it helps.

“Takumi, he’s from world D, doesn’t have any organized fighting infrastructure, unfortunately. Blade—Kenzaki Kazuma, he’s from world E—doesn’t have much to offer other than his fighting skills, either. Hibiki, that’s world F, has been fantastic. Takeshi—their organization—is world-wide, exceptionally well organized, and actually seems fairly well prepared for a disaster of this magnitude. Kabuto, World G, has an organization of non-humans, the Natives, that we’re tentatively working with, but Tendou Souji, Kamen Rider Kabuto, has indicated we need to be careful how much we trust them. Ryoutarou, Kamen Rider Den-O in World H, just has himself and his Imajin and a crazy man with a time-traveling train. Don’t ask, and no, we can’t use it to undo everything that’s happened. At least not unless we wanted to erase ourselves or something ridiculous like that. That just leaves Wataru in World I, I think. Kamen Rider Kiva. He’s ostensibly king of the fangires, but there’s currently a civil war, with about half of his people siding with DaiShocker because they like eating people. He is… not pleased with this development. He’s got an organization, Aozora, which is… sometimes competent. We’re at least using some of their people as go-betweens for ours. Understand?”

No. Not at all. And he’s not entirely sure where to start asking questions, either.

“Don’t worry.” Hikawa offers him a somewhat tired smile. “She has a cheat-sheet with the worlds, the monsters, the Riders, the organizations, and the names that they’ve given. But mainly, she and Ichijou are organizing the resistance and the Riders are the ones actually doing it.”

Sighing in relief, Godai nods. If Ichijou understands what’s going on, that’s good enough for him. “All right. How are we traveling between worlds, by the way? I thought that just Tsukasa could…”

Both Hikawa and Ozawa stiffen, tension in their shoulders, something that looks far too much like fear on their faces.

It’s Ozawa who answers. “What Tsukasa could do was apparently contagious. Ichijou was the one who figured it out—that’s why your world gets the distinction of being called A, at least for now. All of the Riders and their companions that Tsukasa met and interacted with for any length of time can, under the right circumstances, walk between worlds.”

“What circumstances?”

Hikawa’s head tilts back until he’s looking at the ceiling. “Whatever it is that makes you desperate enough to want to escape your world, or desperate enough to reach another world.”

“Some travel easier than others.” Ozawa’s eyes flick toward the door. “But we can all do it. And for all of us, it’s getting easier. Which is the problem.”

There are more problems than just an invading army large enough to threaten nineteen worlds.

Of course there are.

Ozawa continues. “Whatever Tsukasa’s done, it’s damaging the fabric of the multiverse. Takeshi has their people working on it, along with your Enokida and her department.”

“Ryoutarou’s Owner has helped, too.” Hikawa smiles slyly as he says it.

Eyes narrowed in annoyance, Ozawa shrugs. “Den-o’s train man has made some cryptic comments that may have helped them out. At least with figuring out what’s happening, which I guess is the first step to figuring out how to fix it.”

“When you say the multiverse is damaged—”

“The worlds are getting closer together. The walls between them are getting thinner. If it doesn’t slow or stop, which it doesn’t seem like it’s too keen on doing, then worlds are going to start colliding. Universes that have split off from each other, that embody different possibilities, will combine, in the process erasing some of those possibilities.”

“Erasing some of those people.” Hikawa’s face is grim, his hands clenched into fists in front of him. “But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Right now, what we need to do is keep our worlds safe so our scientists can figure out what we need to do to stop it. Where do you need me?”

Ozawa hesitates, just a brief moment, eyes raking down Hikawa’s body. Analyzing, assessing, worrying, and Godai knows that look too well. It’s a look he’s gotten from Ichijou, when battle follows battle, and Ichijou isn’t sure how capable he really is to go into the next fight.

Godai knows better than to tell Hikawa not to go. “I’ll go with him. I’m fine, and he can show me how this works, catch me up on things.”

“Ichijou won’t be pleased if I let you go.” She relaxes as she says it, though, even smiling a little bit as she looks back at him.

“Ichijou knows I won’t ever leave others in danger if I can stop it. So where am I—are we—going, boss?”

“How does world C sound?” Looking back at Hikawa, she smiles. “I think Yuuto and Tendou could use a break—if not from the fighting, at least from each other.”

***

“All right, tell me what to do to open this door.”

Hikawa smiles again, G3X helmet under one arm. “You want it to open. More than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. You bend all of your will toward making a connection to the place where we’re going to be, and it just… happens. Some of the other Riders use the desire to fight; others use their desire to stop DaiShocker; some their desire to save worlds. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it’s strong. Then… push it out there. Through you, into the void between worlds, and then it forms a portal connecting one world to another. Whatever you do, don’t get scared and try to stop halfway through. That just lands you in the gray space, and then we have to come find you.”

“What do you use?”

Hikawa turns away, just slightly, free hand scratching at his cheek. “The ability to save people. It’s why I became an officer in the first place, and why I asked to be on the G3 project.”

Just like Ichijou, and Godai finds that he’s already getting attached to this strange man in his mechanical Kuuga armor. “Your outfit was really based off your version of me? Of Kuuga, I mean?”

“Yeah.” Hikawa studies the ground now, cheeks flushed. “Yongo was my hero. I mean, he was a hero to a lot of us. He saved a lot of us, during the Grongi war. When he disappeared and they gave me the opportunity to fill his place…”

What had happened to that other version of Kuuga? Did he fall with whatever version of Daguva he faced? Did one of Ichijou’s fears about cages and experiments come about? Did he find Kuuga too much of a burden to bear, and lie down somewhere to sleep away the centuries until it was needed again?

Dark thoughts, which aren’t what Godai needs right now. Maybe their version of Kuuga has just wandered off somewhere without a good reporting service, and just hasn’t known about the other crises. “It’s an honor to work with you, Hikawa Makoto. I think we’ll make a good team.”

“The honor’s mine, sir. And I hope we will.” The last part is whispered as Hikawa dons his helmet, the armor sealing with a pneumatic huff.

“Whatever I want… whatever will connect me to another world…” Godai frowns at the air in front of him. There are lots of things that could do that. The joy of exploration might be enough all on its own—there are plenty of places he hasn’t seen yet on this world, and another world will certainly have even more fascinating places and people. The ability to stop Tsukasa is another reason, but not one he wants to delve into too deeply. Anger and revenge aren’t things he can afford to dabble in, not anymore.

There’s always the promise he made. To protect people as honorably, as honestly, and as fervently as Ichijou does, even though fighting is the last thing he ever really wanted to do with his life.

Especially with Hikawa at his side, it feels like the right choice to make.

***

The camera sits on the table, just to the right of the old man. It’s an advertisement booth, home-made, apparently for the photography studio behind it. Pictures are pinned to backboards, beautiful people in beautiful places, but they don’t hold any interest for him. All he can focus on is the camera, the colors bright and searing in his mind. Tsukasa wanders up to the strange pink and black device, reaching out to pick it up.

“Ah, sir, if you could.” The old man’s hand grabs his wrist, stopping him from taking the object.

“But I want it.” Staring at the old man, he jerks his hand roughly away.

“It’s something that’s very difficult to use, you know.” There’s a twinkle to the man’s eye as he picks up the camera. “I keep it so that people can play with it, if they want, because the basic principle is easy. But it’s really quite difficult to get good pictures with it.”

Frowning, Tsukasa continues to stare at the camera. He doesn’t know why he wants it. He’s never taken an interest in cameras or pictures before—not that he can remember, at least. But something about the pink and black pattern on it calls to him, and he doesn’t like anyone stopping him from doing what he wants.

Getting into a fight with the old man wouldn’t help, though. If he does that he might end up having to leave, and he hates that. It makes his head ache, makes it even harder than usual to think and remember, and he’s finally starting to piece things back together again.

His stomach growls, an angry, empty sound. He’s hungry, something he has a vague recollection of being frequently in the recent past. Possibly in the distant past, too, though that’s just a hazy sense, with none of the rough certainty that he has about the last week.

“You look like you’re hungry.” The old man smiles at him, mouth crinkling up into a bright smile. “Would you like some tea and cookies?”

“Yes.” He says the command imperiously, raising his head as he does. Watching the man move toward the door to the photo studio, Tsukasa frowns. There are some other things he’s developed a hazy certainty about in the last few days. “I don’t have any money. And I won’t tolerate any anger or violence because of that. But yes, I would like food and drink. And the camera.”

“Just wait there, Tsukasa.” The man opens the door, and his smile seems more genuine as he slips inside the dark maw of the photo studio.

The man brings out a plate full of sandwiches, cookies, and tea, which Tsukasa descends upon without hesitation. If he’s going to have to fight with people because of monetary reasons, he might as well not be hungry.

Though he may see a solution to that problem, as well.

“I was thinking I could take pictures.” He reaches toward the pink and black camera again, stopping when the old man puts a protective hand on it. Why do those colors call to him so strongly? “To pay you back for the food. To continue to receive food, even.”

“Do you know how to use a camera, Kadoya Tsukasa?” The man continues to smile at him, and there’s a hint of bemusement in his smile now that Tsukasa doesn’t like.

Why does everyone seem to find him to be entertaining and confusing lately? “I can do anything I set my mind to. I’m sure I’ll be a fantastic photographer.”

“Ah. Well, it is a lot of work for one old man and his granddaughter, I suppose.” Standing and clapping his hands together, the old man nods. “You will be an assistant photographer. I’ll give you an advance on the film and the camera, and you’ll pay me back with the money that you make. We might even be able to arrange for room and board. How do you like that?”

“I could stay here?” He reaches for the camera again as he speaks, and this time the man doesn’t stop him from picking it up. “For taking pictures? And you’ll feed me?”

“Yes.” Holding out his hand, the old man smiles broadly again. “If that’s agreeable to you, Tsukasa?”

“For now, I find that quite agreeable.” Taking the man’s hand, he shakes it firmly. Then he frowns, trying to remember what’s been said before. He doesn’t think that remembering things used to be such a painful chore. It’s really quite annoying. “Did I tell you my name?”

“You must have, Kadoya Tsukasa.” The old man shrugs and turns away, rearranging some of his pictures. “Because otherwise, how would I know it?”

He’s not certain. It’s not worth the pain of trying to think through and remember, though. The old man is obviously harmless. Helpful, even, since he’s offering food and a place to stay.

Pondering any other mysteries can wait until he feels better.

***

Tsukasa is taking people’s pictures in the park.

His head isn’t bandaged anymore. He wears a hat the majority of the time, most likely to hide the fact that his hair is starting to grow in as a light fuzz in the areas where it was shaved. He works with a young woman, who seems to become increasingly frustrated with him as the morning goes by.

He doesn’t respond to any of her verbal outbursts with violence, though.

He doesn’t call monsters from between worlds to settle the score.

He honestly seems equally as frustrated as her, glaring down at the camera in his hands as though it’s betraying him somehow.

“We found him.” Wataru is settled calmly on the bench beside Ichijou, scarf around his neck, hands in his pockets, hat on his head. Only his nose is clearly visible, even his eyes shadowed by his clothing. He looks like someone who’s afraid—someone who doesn’t want any human contact.

Or a vampire out of Hollywood legend, but Ichijou knows all too well that the fangire aren’t afraid of the sun.

His clothing doesn’t fit with the calm demeanor that he has. It doesn’t fit a king. It doesn’t fit the Wataru that Ichijou has known for the last week, but it’s a role he plays with the ease of long practice.

Ichijou has a sense that these people, these Riders from all the various worlds, would be interesting, if only they had a chance to sit down and talk to each other without world-ending calamities occurring.

“What do you want to do, Ichijou-san?” Wataru speaks respectfully, as if they were equals.

Which maybe they are. Who can say where world-connecting police detective lines up with vampire king on the social hierarchy? “I want to isolate him, if we can. I want just Tsukasa. No collateral damage.”

“It’ll be easy enough to choose a time when it’s just him and the girl. And either one of us could take him down from here—I’m not telling you to shoot to kill, don’t look at me like that.” Wataru lifts his head enough that Ichijou can see him smile a bit, taking the sting out of the words.

How is the king of the vampire-monsters less arrogant and more compassionate than Tsukasa? There is something wrong with this. “I’d prefer not traumatizing the girl for life, either.”

“You don’t think she knows what he is.”

“None of the other people we’ve talked to who helped him have.” The family that had harbored him on Hibiki’s world had found him sitting on the side of the road, blood all over him, and taken him to the hospital. Tsukasa had claimed to have no memory of what had happened to him or who he was, and they had taken pity on the young man, welcoming him into their home for the day. They hadn’t seen him disappear during Ichijou and Tendou’s fight, and he would be just an odd footnote in their lives, a story for the girl to tell her friends.

It had been the same, more or less, with the people that Tsukasa had taken refuge with—or swindled, depending on the person’s outlook—in Blade’s world, in Den-O’s world, and in Ryuki’s world. The young man appeared, interacted with them claiming to have no memory of who he was, and disappeared whenever violence broke out.

And now he’s taken refuge on a world they haven’t charted yet, one that doesn’t belong to any of the Riders, taking pictures of people in parks. Is this his world? His original world? It’s certainly not the one that DaiShocker’s based on. That world they found fairly quickly, but they don’t have the resources or the information for an offensive strike yet. Soon, hopefully, but not yet.

“Why don’t we go talk to him?” Wataru stands, hand slipping under his coat to where Ichijou knows his bat familiar is dangling. “Let’s see if he recognizes us. If he does, we take him. If he doesn’t… what do you want to do?”

What can they do? If he really doesn’t remember who he is, he’s no use to them. He won’t have any information they can use about DaiShocker.

He won’t be worth the trouble of keeping caged, not while they’re busy saving nineteen worlds and figuring out how to invade another.

No, not invade—stop the invasion from. They’re not the aggressors here. “If he really doesn’t remember, we leave him here. We can come get him any time we need to, and that way we don’t have to deal with him before the war’s over. Acceptable?”

Wataru considers for a moment before nodding. “Acceptable. Certainly better than getting my nose broken like Tendou.”

Ichijou can feel blood rush to his cheeks and he looks away from the fangire. That whole fiasco hadn’t been his finest hour.

“If it makes you feel better, you weren’t the only one who’s ever wanted to do it. It just proves we’re all human.”

Ichijou glances at the fangire, but it’s impossible to read his expression through his clothing. His tone sounds honest enough, though.

Wataru approaches the girl, who is currently in the process of berating Tsukasa, waving a canister of film under his nose. Ichijou walks toward Tsukasa, carefully keeping his hand in range of but not on his gun.

Godai’s going to be fine.

He does not want to shoot Tsukasa.

“I’m assuming you decided you want your picture taken by a grandmaster?” There isn’t any recognition in Tsukasa’s gaze, any flicker of his eyes that would indicate fear or hesitancy or uncertainty. No recognition there at all, and there should be. Holding his camera up, Tsukasa gives his usual smug, arrogant smile.

He does not want to shoot Tsukasa. He wants to find out what Tsukasa knows. “If you’d like.”

“That will be 1000 yen.” Tsukasa holds out his hand imperiously as he says it, and Ichijou has to force his fingers to close on his wallet instead of his gun. Godai will be fine. This is an undercover investigation, not an assassination.

“Thank you.” Smiling, an honest, pleasant expression, Tsukasa walks over and hands the money to the girl. She rolls her eyes, which only serves to make Tsukasa’s expression transform into one of smug superiority.

“Do I know you?” Ichijou manages to keep the words neutral, no snarl in his voice. Have I seen your armies invade my world? Have I seen the best man I know almost die because of you?

Tsukasa hesitates, gaze losing its focus. “I don’t… think so.”

“You’re certain? Maybe… somewhere else?” Maybe in another world, that they had kept safe until Tsukasa came along.

“I…” Tsukasa lets the camera go, and it dangles from his neck on a strap as the young man raises his hands to rub at his temples. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything from before a few days ago. Do you know me? Can you tell me about my past? Do you know where I’m supposed to be?” The questions come quickly, and his speech slurs, just slightly. The arrogance drops from his expression, and he looks even younger than he is.

Young and confused.

Young and scared.

He really doesn’t remember. “It must have been a mistake. Come to think of it, you don’t actually look like the man I was thinking of. Let’s just move on with the picture.”

“Right. You’ll be able to pick up the prints at the Hikari Photo Studio later this afternoon. I promise that the portraits will be completely unique, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” Drawing a deep breath, Tsukasa stares down at the viewfinder on the small camera, expression softer as he looks at the instrument. His eyes narrow in determination, and he looks at the sun and then back at the camera, carefully circling Ichijou as he does.

Hell, Godai. Did he have to make the megalomaniacal world-destroying monster into… this?

Ichijou takes the card with the address for the photo studio from Tsukasa, thanking him for his time. He has no intention of picking anything up, but it means they’ll know where to find Tsukasa when it’s finally time to make him pay for his actions.

Though he thinks he understands why Godai liked the boy, now.

Without a past, without a plan, without an army, this is what Tsukasa chooses to be.

Staring up at the sky, Ichijou waits quietly for Wataru to catch up to him before cutting a way home through the veils between worlds.

This is just going to make the end of the war that much harder for all of them.

***

It takes him three kicks to kill the seventh monster.

Thankfully it’s the last, because the Kuuga armor fades before the heat from the explosion does.

Sitting down on the ground, Godai presses his right hand over the amadam and forces himself to breath slowly and steadily. He will not throw up. He will not pass out.

Maybe telling Hikawa he would be fine for another fight hadn’t been his most brilliant idea ever.

Hikawa settles down on the ground next to him, sparks jumping from his suit’s broken right knee. His helmet’s somewhere behind them in the rubble, abandoned when the face plate was destroyed and the metal started melting. That was a neat trick. Whatever mad scientist came up with that should be proud.

“So.” Leaning back, Godai tentatively tries standing up and decides that might be something better left for a few minutes in the future. “Ready to go find some more monsters?”

For a moment Hikawa looks panicked. Then he laughs, lying down where he is. Most of the armor has been stripped off his left arm, making him look curiously asymmetrical. “I almost believed you for a minute. If you really want to, we certainly can. I can start throwing bits of the G3X armor at them. Ozawa is not going to be pleased with this. Thanks to our hyper-paranoid government, though, we’ve at least got spare parts. Never thought I’d be happy for anything the anti-Agito movement did…”

“There’s always a silver lining.” Taking a steadying breath, Godai tries again to get to his feet. Better this time. Offering a hand to the younger man, Godai hauls him to his feet. “Shall we go home?”

“Yeah.” Hikawa leans on him for a moment before giving him a tired thumb’s up and a shy smile. “Let’s go home.”

***

It’s easier to get from the world they had been in back to the truck. Not that Kiva’s world… or maybe that was Den-O’s, he’d have to check the chart to see which was actually J… was all that bad. None of the worlds they’d visited had looked bad, per se. They actually mostly looked like his version of Tokyo, similar shops, similar people, similar though slightly different fashions.

The same color of human blood, the same smell of burning buildings and houses and cars. The same monsters with their multicolored blood—or sand, in one case—and their usually-explosive deaths.

The fact that their forays into other worlds always ended on a battlefield just makes summoning the will to go back to headquarters easier.

Ichijou’s sitting on the cot that had been Godai’s hospital bed until that morning. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair and clothes more rumpled than Godai’s ever seen them. He and Ozawa both look up when they enter.

Ozawa freezes for just a moment, then darts away from the computer and over to Hikawa. Godai doesn’t understand half the words that are coming out of her mouth as she takes in all the damage that the suit sustained, but he doesn’t have to. The concern and worry she felt is obvious in the way she looks at Hikawa and the way she touches him, gently, steering him into position to strip off the remainder of the damaged G3X equipment.

Ichijou stares at him, standing at the edge of the bed now. His expression’s somber, caught somewhere between shock and relief and fear. There’s bruising around his nose and a partially healed break in his upper lip that says he hasn’t been as careful in the fights as Godai wishes he had been.

Not that Godai would ever say anything about that. He smiles, walking past Hikawa and Ozawa to stand in front of the detective. “Welcome back. Sorry I didn’t get to see you earlier. Hikawa needed someone to watch his back.”

“I know. I didn’t actually expect you to stay down once you woke up.” Ichijou forces a smile as he says it, though the lines of tension around his eyes say he wishes Godai had. “I would have been here to explain things, but I was trying to find information on DaiShocker.”

“Oh? Ozawa said you and King Wataru were looking for Tsukasa.”

Ichijou hesitates, just barely, before nodding. “Yes.”

Godai waits for Ichijou to continue. When the detective doesn’t, he gently says, “So he’s still alive.”

Half-turning from him, Ichijou nods. “Yes. We wanted to question him about DaiShocker. We thought he’d have inside information. But he doesn’t remember anything.”

“Anything?”

“His name, but that’s it. He’s still calling himself Kadoya Tsukasa. He’s working at a photo studio taking pictures. The girl he was with says that he showed up and conned her grandfather into giving him a job and a place to stay despite the fact that he’s the worst photographer ever.” Ichijou actually smiles as he says it, some of the tension leaving his stance. “I think she actually intimidated Wataru.”

“So he’s not a threat anymore.” Sighing, Godai smiles happily. “That’s good. I didn’t like the looks of that armor of his.”

“We can’t find it.” Ichijou tenses again, face grim, body taut. The only time Godai can remember seeing him this distraught was the first time Daguva attacked, when the city (the people, Ichijou’s people, anyone unlucky enough to wander too close, and he can’t-won’t-mustn’t think about that) burned around them. “We’re assuming DaiShocker didn’t take it, because it hasn’t been used against us on the battlefield yet, but we don’t know where it went.”

“If it shows up, I’ll take it out.” He says the words calmly, willing Ichijou to believe him. Trying to take some of the burden off his friend’s shoulders, because Ichijou’s already been through enough for any one man’s lifetime. “No one’s going to have a chance to get a lucky shot in next time.”

“If we have to face Riders, we’ll do it carefully, with the best team we can put together.” Ichijou turns back to him again, hopeful and hesitant at the same time. “You really feel fine?”

He could make a joke about how after the third time near-death experiences lose their sting. He could give a thumb’s up and say that everything’s going to be all right.

He probably will, sometime in the next ten minutes.

But right now he takes a step forward, obliterating the distance between him and Ichijou, and wraps his arms around the detective.

It’s not very Japanese of him. It’s not something he’s done before with Ichijou, or really considered doing.

Sometimes he likes the way he can act on his travels better than the way he can act in his home, though.

At first Ichijou tenses, uncertain, afraid. Then the detective hugs him back, forcefully, with a desperate, aching need that Godai understands.

He doesn’t say anything for a long minute. He just holds Ichijou, glad that his partner, his friend, the man who’s walked through hell with him every time without even being asked, is still here at his side.

“You’re fine.” Ichijou says the words, pulling away from him gently. Some of the tension is gone from his face, and an honest smile plays at the corners of his lips. “Still Godai Yuusuke, always doing the unexpected.”

“That’s me.” Holding both hands out in a double thumb’s up, he grins at Ichijou. “Promising you that I’m fine, and everything’s going to turn out all right.”

“Let’s take you home, Godai. Minori and Kazari will be thrilled to see you…”

Ichijou’s voice trails off, a flush rising to his cheeks. Godai turns in time to catch Ozawa break off from placing a soft kiss on the forehead of an already-sleeping Hikawa. She stares back at them, though there’s as much good humor as challenge in her expression. “The two of you will be going, then?”

Ichijou recovers from his surprise quickly, snapping back into professional mode. “For a few hours. How long do I have before you need me back?”

“Go ahead and take twelve hours.” She holds up a hand before he can protest. “Tachibana’s going to come take over command from me in an hour or so. Takeshi apparently wants to run some experiments on the world gates during the night, so it’s his choice. You can replace him tomorrow morning, and I’ll come join you once I’ve had a bit of sleep. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair.” Godai answers for Ichijou, taking the detective’s arm and steering him toward the door of the truck. “I should be back in fighting shape by tomorrow, anyway. Maybe Hikawa and I can team up again. Have a good night. And tell Hikawa he was a great partner when he wakes up.”

Ozawa nods, watching them as they leave.

Ichijou doesn’t say anything until they’re out in the parking lot, alone in the dusk. “I was going to agree with her, you know. We’ve been doing fairly well at rotating command between the three of us without running anyone into the ground.”

Godai refrains from telling Ichijou that he actually looks like hell, since getting Ichijou annoyed at him is the last thing he wants right now. “I’m sure you were. I just want to get home, Ichijou. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long week.” Ichijou’s hand settles gently on Godai’s shoulder. “I’ve got a bad feeling that there’s going to be a lot of long weeks in the near future.”

“Maybe.” Godai puts his own hand over Ichijou’s. “But we’ll get through it.”

Ichijou smiles at him, and a path between worlds opens in front of them. “With you here, how could I possibly think otherwise?”


End file.
